


not his jacket

by Internal_Nightmare



Series: more than a day together [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: I wish there was more short keith, M/M, and there's smol keith, because there needs to be more, smol keith is life, teeth rotting fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-16 21:31:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10579881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Internal_Nightmare/pseuds/Internal_Nightmare
Summary: It was no red jacket- no way josé - and that much was obvious. But, Keith supposed, it would do for now.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternal_Darkness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eternal_Darkness/gifts).



Keith had never met his mother- had no memory of the blinding smile his father used to tell him about. No memory of her gentle hands that apparently help him tight to her chest when he cried as a baby. No memory of the saucy attitude and lilac-purple eyes that his father used to tell him he inherited with pride.

Another thing he didn't remember was when the comfort-jacket started.

His father told him, before the final goodbye at the Garrison, that it started shortly after his mother left and no matter what he did, Baby-Keith wouldn't stop crying, so he wrapped him in her old red and white jacket.

It apparently quieted his cries, and accompanied by slight rocking, lulled him to sleep.

He didn't wear it once at the Garrison- that was not a place to feel homesick, that was not a place to fool around at. His father dropped him off and never came back- he would not overuse the only memory he doesn't even have of when he had a family.

He had a feeling they were once happy, together.

Keith started wearing the jacket to bed when Shiro was one of the three people proclaimed dead from a failed mission apparently caused by pilot error.

Because Shiro was practically his brother. And that was just one more family member lost to the wind that kept pushing against him.

He stared wearing the jacket as much as he could when he was kicked out of the Garrison- "disciplinary issues" they had said. Sure, he had punched a few people in the face, but was that really why they kicked him out? Keith was sure other kids before him had done it.

Keith was also sure that they kicked him out because he knew that Shiro wasn't lost due to pilot error.

  
Keith wore it during the day when he became a part of Voltron- he was Red's paladin, and she needed more than a practically orphaned teen who looked to a jacket with no memory to it for comfort. So he didn't sleep with it anymore.

But there were days that it was hard.

When he could've sworn Pidge was going to leave, even when she didn't, and when Lance landed himself in the healing pod, by the time he finally settled down to sleep he refused to urge to tug at the edges of the jacket- instead just tugging it tighter around himself.

The nights when he couldn't stop thinking, _What if I'm Galra? What if I'm Galra? What if I'm Galra? What if I'm Galra? What does this mean?_

Most nights though, he left it hanging on the wall right across from where he laid his head down- so he could look over and see it, make sure it was still there.

Now though, after walking in from the hangars after a particular energy-draining battle, all he wanted to do was grab his jacket, roll down the cuffs to tuck his hands up the sleeves, and crawl into bed for a nice long nap.

But there was one problem for that, he found, after changing out of the paladin armour and dressing himself accordingly. His jacket, the one he loved and wore every waking moment, was gone.

Of course, he panicked, his heart dropping to his feet as he tore his room apart.

And when everything was strewn across the floor and he still couldn't find it, he bolted down the castle halls every which way he'd ever walked in hopes of catching some sight of the red and white jacket.

The training deck? Nope.

  
The kitchen? Nothing but alien food.

  
The dining area? No where in sight.

  
The control room? Not a hint of red.

But there was a jacket in the common room, with no person attached to it. And it made Keith's heart sink even further, because it was a jacket, but it wasn't _his_ jacket.

It was Lance's. With it's hideously obnoxious green, and yellow, and white colours, laying over the back of the half-circle of a couch.

It was a jacket all right, but alas, it wasn't his. And as he turned to leave the common room, he had a thought.

_Would he even find his own jacket?_

It was fleeting and earth shattering, but there none the less. And it was what caused him to turn on heel, and take slow cautious steps back over towards the couch- back over towards the jacket.

The jacket that still wasn't his own.

Slowly, as if it would bite him, Keith reached out and grasped the sleeve of the green jacket, and carefully - very, very, carefully - he pulled, and watched as it slipped off of the couch and into his hands.

Oh _Jesus_ , why was he doing this? Keith's hands clenched around the fabric of Lance's jacket. He _knows_ this is a bad idea, that Lance will come strolling back in for his jacket only to find it's not there, and then Keith would either have to work on his stealth skills and get it back undetected, or come clean about his little...comfort.

And though he was rather confident in his stealth skills, neither option sounded too appealing. Instead of putting it back on the couch though, he paused, and slipped his arms through the sleeves.

  
The first thing Keith noticed about Lance's jacket was that it was...a bit big on him. The shoulders on the jacket were a bit wider than his own, and the sleeves came down barely over his fingers but still just, and the torso falling down all the way to a little above his knees. Where on Lance, this jacket fit perfectly, on him, he was practically drowning in it. The difference was so _obvious_ now as he wore the jacket. Which meant Keith was...small.

That was a rather uncomfortable thought.

He vowed then and there that he would take this jacket off, and never let anyone have the same discovery he himself just had.

And then Keith zipped the jacket up, flipped the hood over his head (it almost fell over his eyes) and walked back to his room.

  
It was no red jacket- no way josé - and that much was obvious. But, Keith supposed, it would do for his nap until Keith found his own, far more sentimental, jacket.

 

  
Okay, Lance was perplexed. This whole situation was unnecessarily complicated and made his head hurt.

Because where the quiznak could his jacket have gone in the span of his and Hunks trek to the kitchen and back? It couldn't have just sprouted legs and walked away, and he remembered _very specifically_ , leaving it draped over the back of the couch before they left.

"Hunk- I left my jacket on the couch, right?" He huffed, leaning over to see if it fell back the other side. Really, Lance didn't need to ask, he _knew_ he left his jacket here. He _knew_ it. Lance just also happened to need validation that he wasn't going crazy.

"Uh," Hunk paused, looking over towards the couch, staring at the spot he too could've sworn it was. "I was pretty sure, yeah? Did you take it with us to the kitchen or something?"

" _No_ , Hunk that's why I'm asking! Now I know I don't have some weird space-madness," He gestured vaguely towards the couch. "And that my jacket really was there when we left."

Despite common belief, Lance wasn't dumb. Not in any sense. Actually- he was fairly bright. He just didn't show it.

So when his jacket was missing from the couch it was pretty damn obvious that someone other than Hunk and him had moved it.

Someone sneaky.  
Someone playful.  
Someone who would commit this heinous crime.

In the end they kinda just gave up. After all, there were only five other people who could've taken it, and all of these five people, couldn't leave the castle as it floated through space so ultimately they wouldn't be able to keep it forever.

It was ingenious. And all Hunks idea.

  
And then, later on after Hunk left to refill their snack supply, Lance found Keith's jacket, tucked away hazardously along the bottom of the couch as if dropped in a haste. Normally, if this was any other article of clothing, Lance would have ignored it and gone on with his day. But this was no other article of clothing- this was the jacket that his teammate (because that's what they were. Teammates.) wore constantly, as if changing out of his every-day attire and into anything more comfortable was unthinkable.

Lance had to admit- it was kinda weird, in a I-hate-everything-why-am-I-so-loveable sorta way.

The blue paladin let his lips twitch up in a smile at the though of Keith realizing his everyday fashion statement was off kilter, and improvising by keeping himself locked in his room or wearing one of the castle-offered clothing that happened to be a darkly colour jacket. Because he seems to really like all-black outfits aside from the jacket currently sitting on Lance's lap.

Wait.

Back up the turnip truck- what did Lance just think?

Keith would...improvise. He wouldn't..? Would he?

Lance paused, muttered a, "holy quiznak", before he was bolting out of the room.

  
Lance found Keith, not in the training deck, which was the first place he checked, but in his room. (Which really, was probably the first place he should've checked, but who's keeping track?) It was just Keith, asleep in his bed, his room, that looked identical to Lance's, quiet and peaceful save for the low relaxing hum of the ships engine.

Oh, one more thing- Keith was snuggled up in his jacket. It's Zipper all the way up to his chin, and his hands tucked up into the sleeves, hood flipped up. Like this, Lance noticed, Keith seemed really...small.

Which was as equally as startling as it was adorable.

Keith didn't snore, it was more of an almost nonexistent inhale and a soft sigh of an exhale. And god _dammit_ if this situation wasn't cute enough already.

Lance wanted his jacket- really he did. But he wasn't heartless either.

So instead, he laid the smaller red and white jacket down at the foot of Keith's bed and exited the room.

But not before pulling the hood down further over Keith's face. Because who could resist?

 

  
If Keith woke up from his nap a few ticks later to a smiley faced sticky-note on top of his jacket that was conveniently placed at the foot of his bed he didn't say anything.


	2. Alternate Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this is it. This is the end. Lance was going to spontaneously combust and they'd need a new blue paladin, woe is him. Lance would like white roses at his funeral.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This second chapter can be credited to Silverbullet93 for the idea of Lance and Hunk putting it on for laughs.
> 
> This wouldn't be a thing without their idea.

...

And then, later on after Hunk left to refill their snack supply, Lance found Keith's jacket, tucked away hazardously along the bottom of the couch as if dropped in a haste. Normally, if this was any other article of clothing, Lance would have ignored it and gone on with his day. But this was no other article of clothing- this was the jacket that his teammate (because that's what they were. Teammates.) wore constantly, as if changing out of his every-day attire and into anything more comfortable was unthinkable.

Lance had to admit- it was kinda weird, in a I-hate-everything-why-am-I-so-loveable sorta way. The question remained though; why didn't Keith have it with him _now_?

That was when, bless his soul, Hunk returned. His voice echoed down the castle halls as the door opened. "Lance, I hope you're happy," He scoffed, lifting the plate of food that mostly consisted of goo. "We pretty much ate everything else that _wasn't_ goop."

Looking up, Lances wrinkles his nose. "I did _not_ want to spend my pre-battle time eating," He shudders. " _Food goo_."

Hunk laughs at this and, as he's about to set the plate down, notices the red jacket in Lances lap. Hunk points, "Isn't that Keith's?"

"Yeah I think so," And the conversation pauses. Lance meets Hunk eyes and they share a look because _hell yes_ , of _course_ they have the same idea. They just have to wait for someone to say it aloud.

"You wanna..." Hunk starts, eyes flicking back and forth from the jacket to Lance. "Try it on?" _And it was said._

Lance jumps to his feet, one arm already slipping through its sleeve. "Heck yeah!" He cheers.

And then the jacket it fully on and Hunk and Lance both pause. "Wow." Is all Hunk manages to say about the situation, because, really, _wow_ , and laughs start to bubble over.

Lance eyes the jacket that's far too small for him with a grin, and turns to Hunk. "Aww, Hunk, look! Keith is so small!" He cooed.

That in itself only made Hunk laugh harder, falling onto the couch, hands around his stomach. This of course, caused the plate of foot to overturn and spill onto the floor.

Neither really noticed though, in their fit of hysterical laughter.

They did notice, however, when Shiro and Pidge walked into the common room, confusion blown across their face as they surveyed the scene.

"Uh," Pidge starts, but Shiro, the greatest big brother of all time, notices something a little out of place about this picture.

"Is that Keith's jacket?" He asks, because of course he asks. Keith, albeit a bit reluctantly, has mentioned _things_ about the jacket. Enough _things_ that Shiro knows 100% that, that red jacket should've been with its owner.

Hunk and Lance freeze, and slowly, Lance turns to face they two other paladins. He holds his arms out. "Look," He whispers. "Look how small Keith actually is."

And thus, exactly what Keith had been trying to avoid, began.

 

Keith woke up from his nap groggy, and still tired. Of course, he knew there was one culprit for this.

Lance's painstakingly hideous jacket. (And though he won't admit it, he rather likes how it swallows his limps like a hug. After all, it's always nice to get a hug once and a while.)

Although he felt unrested, unhappy, and a bit out of it, he didn't want to take the jacket off; his own was still missing after all, and at least Lance's was _some_ form of replacement.  
Though nothing could every replace Keith's jacket.

But, he remembered, he'd have to bring the jacket back to the common room, lest someone realizes it was him who took it.

He heaved a sigh, and sat up, eyeing the place on the wall where his normal jacket usually hung. It stung; knowing it was missing was completely different than sitting down to actually realize he didn't have it with him.

 _He should take it off_ , He told himself, fingers curling around the zipper of the green monstrosity. _It wasn't his to keep_.

Though, even then his fingers uncurled and slipped down, his arms falling loosely at his sides, and Keith revelled how the sleeves covered them entirely. He had never worn anything that was sizes too big, or too small. He had always worn clothes that were just right, maybe if not a little loose. So this was a new experience.

A new and welcomed experience.

As he stood up, and began striding towards the door, another body got in his way. And, _shit_ , because he knew those shoes, and he knew those jeans, and he knew that shirt.

Keith paused.

And he _knew that jacket_.

His lips upturned in a sneer as his hands, before hesitant but now fuelled with this lump in his throat and squeeze in his chest, unzipped the jacket and ripped it off with such a haste that Lance only blinked before it was being shoved into his arms.

"Give me my jacket." Keith hissed, hands outstretched. When Lance doesn't immediately start moving, Keith grips the white collar of it and tugs, _hard_. " _Give me_ , my jacket, or I will _take_ my jacket."

Lances hand reaches up and untangles Keith's fist from the collar, his other raised in defence. "Whoa, okay," He starts, eyes wide. "Calm down."

Though his sneer drops, his defensive posture does not, and his arm tugs out of Lances grip to cross over his chest. "Just give it to me." Keith murmurs and, _wait_ , hold the phone.

"Uh," Lance says, because that's all he _can_ say. Why did his mind have to be so inappropriate? _Why_?

"Just- I know you don't get why I want it, but," Keith pauses, huffs, and looks off to the side. " _Please_ , just give it to me."

Oh, this is it. This is the end. Lance was going to spontaneously combust and they'd need a new blue paladin, woe is him. Lance would like white roses at his funeral.

"I-" Lance stutters. "Um- I don't think- you- think that through a bit more?" Woe is him. Woe is him. _Woe is him_.

Keith jolts, looking back towards Lance, confused. "What the quiznak?" And that's when Lance notices that Keith looks _up_ at him. "You sure the last mission didn't knock your brains loose?"

"Um, no- wait, _yes_ , I'm sure." Lance pauses. "That, I didn't. That, that didn't happen. I'm good." He fumbles, and slips off the too small jacket, before passing it onto Keith's shoulder, since his hands were too busy guarding his chest and his posture was too busy being pouty.

Wait- is Keith's posture was? Pouty? Holy _quiznak_.

After a moment of silence from both of them, Keith reaches up to pull his jacket down, hugging it not-so-subtly to his chest. "Thanks I guess. Though, don't take it next time- seriously."

"What?" Lance scrambles. "Oh, no, I didn't take it. I found it in the common room."

Keith gives him a look, and it takes Lance a second to realize how stupid his statement must sound after he walked in here wearing it.

"No, really! I was wearing it because me and Hunk wanted to see the Keith-Trademarked style was suitable for someone as amazing as me." He explains, and on his chest and looking off into the distance in mock-narcissism.

Keith's lips twitch upwards and he slips his red and white jacket on. "Well, as you saw, it was trademarked for a reason."  
He plays along and give Lance a once over, before moving around him towards the door.

"Hey-" Lance starts, only to be interrupted by the door to Keith's room opening again.

"Do you know what's for dinner?" Keith asks, as he starts walking down the castle halls towards the dining area.

Lance jogs a bit to catch up with Keith's fast-past-midget-walk and falls into step beside him, pulling his own green jacket on. "To be honest? Food goo, unless Coran decides to make another one of his 'special Altean recipes'." At that, Keith's face scrunches, but he doesn't do anything but hum in reply.

  
(And at the dinner table, he squirmed, as everyone kept looking over at him and examining him in his jacket.

"So, that fits you pretty well, right Keith?" Pidge had asked, then there was a thump and she began nursing her foot.

Keith was so so, confused.)

**Author's Note:**

> Voila! There it is!  
> I plan to write more Voltron esk. Things in the future, so if you have any suggestions, feel free to write them in the comments!


End file.
